


What's Cookin', Good-Lookin'?

by riots



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Competition, Gen, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tobio had signed up for this cooking reality television show, he'd thought it would be a challenge, a way to prove himself, and he was definitely headed for the winner circle. He hadn't counted on Hinata Shouyou, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Cookin', Good-Lookin'?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatonegreenpencil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonegreenpencil/gifts).



Tobio clenches his teeth, his hands squeezed tightly at his sides. Immunity should have been _his_. His grilled octopus had been flawless, his plating divine, and that little upstart Hinata had done whatever that mess was with a smoking machine and some shrimp and stolen it right out from underneath his nose. Ridiculous. 

This part of the competition is the worst. Tobio is forced to stand and listen to the judges praise Hinata’s dish, his boldness and his creativity. “Congratulations,” Chef Kiyoko says, hands folded in front of her, and she gestures Hinata towards the winner’s circle. Next to Tobio, Hinata’s entire little body wiggles, a smile stretching the width of his face. It’s only the power of the cameras around them that keeps Tobio’s mouth from curling with disdain. “Very impressive. You deserve this.”

“Thank you, chef,” Hinata says cheerfully, and when he practically skips off, Tobio feels like strangling him. That little twerp doesn’t have any kind of formal training and he’s come in here and started stealing Tobio’s victories right out from underneath him. Tobio has never even heard of the kind of combinations Hinata serves up for the judges, and yet somehow they just keep winning prizes. Tobio doesn’t know whether to be impressed or upset. He’s settled on a combination of the two.

A hand lands heavily on Tobio’s shoulder, and he flinches, shrugging out from underneath it. “So sorry,” Oikawa purrs, batting his eyelashes. “It was _so_ close, but in the end, we had to give it to the little guy. ” He pulls away to step into his spot next to the other two judges. “Maybe next time! Ah, if you’re lucky.” 

Tobio glares at him for long enough that the producer, off camera, sighs and flaps his hand, motioning for him to speak. “I don’t need luck,” he says roughly. “Next time, I’ll win it.” Oikawa just grins wider.

The cameras turn off so that the staff can prepare for the next segment and Tobio pulls his apron off with a huff, striding over to his work station. He busies himself with a water bottle, turning the lid over and over in his fingers while he categorizes the comments he received from the judges. “Soulless,” he scoffs, flicking the plastic bottle cap down and watching it bounce onto the floor. It’s not even the first time he’s heard it in this competition (Oikawa delights in the word, which Tobio thinks is a bit ironic, considering Tooru Oikawa is possibly the devil), but it still stings every time. His cooking isn’t _soulless_. It’s technically impeccable, especially when compared with whatever plating disaster Hinata came up with. Hinata had served his plates with sauce spilled all over the edge and gotten praise. 

He bends down and scoops up the lid only to smack it hard against the counter again. It pings into the air, whizzing past Hinata’s face. “Whoa,” Hinata says, eyes wide. “Are you that mad that I beat you?”

It grates on Tobio, that such a small guy could have such a big impact on his mood. He grunts and shrugs, turning away. He doesn’t want to give Hinata the impression that he’s paying his full attention to him or anything. 

“I guess I got one up on you, huh?” Hinata continues, oblivious. Tobio presses his fingers to his temples. He’s developing a headache. “Three immunity wins for me, only two for you.” Hands tucked into his pockets, Hinata rocks back on his heels, looking so pleased with himself. “This is fun. You’re going to have to play catch-up.”

Tobio seethes at the idea that he’d ever be second to this little twerp. “Pure luck,” he snaps. Hinata’s staring at him with a mixture of wariness and amusement and it makes Tobio bristle with irritation. He sucks a breath in through his nose and clenches his hand so tightly around his water bottle that it crackles. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Ooookay.” Hinata eyes him weirdly and then skirts around his counter, heading away to go talk to one of the other contestants. 

Tobio watches him go, glaring at his narrow shoulders, his water bottle crunching between his stiff fingers. Of course Hinata’s all relaxed. He doesn’t have to stress about the upcoming pressure test, about having to impress the judges for the second time today. Tobio does. 

He startles so badly at the soft touch to his elbow that he spills water over his knuckles. “You look a little tense,” Sugawara says, eyes gentle. Tobio lifts a shoulder, wiping his wet hand off on his pants. “Are you worried about the pressure test?”

“No,” Tobio says stubbornly, but the heat of his voice has leeched out with Sugawara’s presence. He’d never heard much about Koushi Sugawara before this competition, but the soft-spoken executive chef has been an excellent advisor for all of them. Tobio is fairly certain the top twelve episode would never have made it to air if Sugawara hadn’t been able to coax Tanaka back into his shirt. “Well. I mean, not much.” Tobio squares his shoulders. “I’m the best chef here.”

Sugawara indulges him with a smile, which Tobio appreciates. There’s been a lot of tough competitors here, Tobio will begrudgingly admit. Hinata has matched him step for step with immunity challenges, but Sawamura Daichi is an experienced and very talented chef, and Ryuunosuke Tanaka is far too noisy but still serves the judges consistently creative dishes. This isn’t the walk in the park that he’d imagined it would be.

“Relax,” Sugawara says, and he waits until Tobio unclenches his hand from his water bottle. “You are a great chef. I’ve seen it.” Tobio ducks his head, heat rushing to his cheeks. “So stop worrying about whatever anyone else is doing and focus on making the best dish you can with the ingredients you’re given.” 

“Alright, alright,” Tobio mutters. He glances over at Hinata and the nearly awestruck expression on his face as he speaks to some of the older contestants. He rubs his hand idly against the damp spot on his thigh before he looks up at Sugawara. “Thanks,” he says.

Sugawara reaches out to ruffle Tobio’s hair, a gesture that Tobio ordinarily loathes, but he decides to let it slide. “That’s what I’m here for,” Sugawara says with a wink.

As Sugawara slips away to speak to one of the staff, Oikawa claps his hands and then spreads them wide, like he’s about to make some kind of sweeping announcement. Their beleaguered producer slaps a hand over Oikawa’s mouth instead. Behind his grip, Oikawa droops, looking upset. “Break for lunch,” Iwaizumi calls, nodding to the contestants. “Thanks for your hard work. We’ll resume filming in two hours.”

The room erupts in noise once more as they’re ushered out so that the staff can set up for the next round. They’re crowded through the door, and Tobio jostles up against Sawamura’s elbow, bobbing his head in a quick apology that’s immediately waved off. “Your grilled octopus looked like a winner, you know?” he tells Tobio. “It was close. Too bad.”

Tobio fumbles for the right reply, but Sawamura’s already pulling ahead of him to speak to Tanaka. Tobio looks at them for a moment, at the easy way they laugh together, and he feels vaguely disappointed in himself, even more than he already had. 

Oh well. He’s heard whispers of the next round centering around eggs. Time to pull out his phone and do a little research. He’s here to win, after all, not make friends.

 

 

 

Tobio had been expecting something new for their top eight episode, but he hadn’t been expecting this. “This round is all about teamwork,” Oikawa tells them, folding his hands in front of himself like the evil villain he truly is. “In every kitchen, you will have to learn to work with those around you to keep everything running smoothly. Even—” and here he pauses, turning to smile at Tobio with too many teeth, “—if you don’t always get along.”

Oh. Oh no. “We’ve chosen your teams for you,” Chef Asahi says, and a staff member comes out to hand them all aprons for the task. Each pair is colour-coded: blue, yellow, green and—Tobio’s stomach sinks when he watches the staff hand Hinata a red apron, matching the one in Tobio’s hands. Hinata looks up at Tobio, eyes wide, but Tobio wrenches his head around, doing his best to remind himself not to scowl on camera. “Although this is a new challenge, I’m sure you’ll all rise to the occasion and meet it head-on.”

Tobio stares down at his apron. This is worse than the immunity challenges. He is being deliberately sabotaged. It’s unfair. Next to him, Tanaka clears his throat and elbows him, gesturing at the folded up fabric in his hands, and Tobio realizes that everyone else is already putting them on. He hastens to catch up, pulling the apron over his head and wondering if he can talk someone into swapping partners with him. There is no way he can work with this little twerp. It’s impossible. 

They all move to their stations and Tobio grips the counter’s edge, pointedly not looking at Hinata. “So…” Hinata says, and Tobio doesn’t grace him with a response. “I guess we’re gonna be paired up today, huh? It’ll be good, right, because we’re both so good...” 

Hinata reaches for something by the sink, fiddling idly, and Tobio winces when he hears a crash and a clatter. This is a nightmare. This is really a nightmare. He can’t do this. “The only way that this will work is if you stand back and do exactly what I tell you to do,” he says briskly, tightening the ties on his apron. “We can’t waste time arguing about whose idea is better anyway. This is how it has to be.”

The set is buzzing with energy, the sound of the other teams strategizing and the staff members getting ready for the actual round, but it’s easy enough to hear Hinata’s voice above all of it, shrill and angry. “Who said you get to be in charge?” he asks. “This is supposed to be a team mission!”

Tobio crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m the better chef,” Tobio says plainly, and Hinata squawks indignantly. “It only makes sense that we’d follow my plan. Keep your mouth shut and don’t get in my way.” Maybe if he’s very, very lucky, Hinata won’t spend the whole round doing something bizarre and ‘edgy,’ like trying out molecular cooking or something. Hinata’s never learned the rules and he just stomps all over everything, and it drives Tobio up the wall. He could be really good and he’s too busy playing around with deep fryers. Ridiculous.

“Get in _your_ way?” Hinata snaps, drawing himself up to his full, diminutive height. “You know, I got here on my own skill. I don’t need your charity!” He slaps a hand down on the counter and it’s only then that Tobio notices the way the other contestants are staring at them. Worse, the cameras have swung their way. Great. “Let’s not forget, I’ve won more immunity challenges than you have. Who’s the better chef now?”

Tobio knows he should remember to be nicer for the cameras, but all he can do is bristle at this kid’s words. “It’s still me,” he hisses, stepping in and bending until their faces are only a few inches apart. “And when we win this challenge, it’ll be because of my skill and years of training. Please don’t fool yourself.”

Hinata takes a deep breath, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opening to reply, but Sugawara inserts himself smoothly between the two of them. “You’re both very enthusiastic about the competition,” he says, and Tobio straightens, sniffing with disdain and glaring over Sugawara’s shoulder at Hinata. “That’s good.” There’s something like steel under the amiable way that Sugawara smiles at them. “But let’s keep that energy for the challenge, shall we?” He squeezes Tobio’s shoulder, hard enough to let Tobio understand that it’s not a request. “Alright?”

“Sorry,” Hinata says immediately, and Sugawara ruffles his hair, earning himself a sunny smile in return. Tobio loathes Hinata. 

“Chef Kageyama?” Sugawara says, turning to him, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

Tobio grits his teeth. “I apologize for shouting,” he says, because it’s as close as he’ll get to apologizing for his behavior. He doesn’t regret anything he said, after all. He only ever says what he means. His eyes flick to the camera pointed at him and to the producer and judges watching him. Oikawa looks downright delighted. For a moment, Tobio considers trying to kill him with his brain. 

“Thank you.” The iron grip on Tobio’s shoulder eases, and Sugawara’s gaze softens. “Now. Do you think we’re ready to move on with the challenge?”

“Yes,” Hinata says, tugging at his hair to straighten it. “We’re totally cool now. Promise.” He couples this with a glare at Tobio, like he’s daring him to argue, which isn’t particularly persuasive. “Right?”

“Right,” Tobio grits out, choosing instead to stare down at his apron. He hates that they match right now.

Sugawara claps his hands. “Good,” he says, and he steps back. “I’m glad we got through this.”

Except Tobio is not through this. He’s barely even started. Great. At the front of the stage, Iwaizumi is calling for everyone’s attention, directing them to their spots at their stations so the judges can run through the introduction to the round. Tobio pivots stiffly and folds his hands in front of him so tightly his knuckles are turning white. At least, he thinks, this can’t get any worse.

It’s Oikawa’s turn to introduce what they’ll be cooking, which means that Tobio’s got a lot of time to wait before he can actually get to the cooking part. While Iwaizumi gestures for Oikawa wrap it up, looking harried, Tobio watches Hinata from the corner of his eye. He’s inching towards Tobio, and it’s probably got something to do with how they’re supposed to fit in the same shot. Tobio steps even further away. He wants to get this over with.

“Your task for this week,” Oikawa says finally, and Asahi raises the box on cue, revealing a magnificently decorated cake, “is simple: dessert.” It’s worse. It actually got worse. Tobio is awful with desserts. He doesn’t even eat them very often. “You’ll have a chance to gather your ingredients, and then you’ll have one hour to wow us.”

The last time Tobio baked a cake, he’d been working under Oikawa in his kitchen. They’d been short a pastry chef, and somehow Tobio had ended up at the station. It had ended in tragedy and way too much flour down Tobio’s pants. He’s not even certain how that happened. This is going to be terrifying. 

Hinata nudges him with an elbow. “I love dessert,” he whispers. “This is going to be great.” Tobio fixes him with a look and Hinata takes a step back, alarmed. 

It’s going to be a very long hour.

 

 

“Cupcakes?” Tobio hisses. Hinata’s head darts around, eyes wide, examining the rest of the contestants to make sure they didn’t hear anything. “You want to impress the judges with cupcakes. Are you four?” 

He watches Hinata poke speculatively at a bag of sugar before he scoops it up and deposits it in their basket. At least, he supposes, Hinata seems to know what he’s doing. Tobio’s seen him in other rounds, wide-eyed with near panic as he gathers ingredients higgledy-piggledy off the shelf, but today is different. Hinata moves quickly, assuredly, and Tobio frowns. He’s supposed to be in charge.

“Cupcakes are really in right now,” Hinata says defensively. He shoves the basket at Tobio. “Shut up.”

“We’re not making cupcakes,” Tobio decides. He digs through the ingredients already stashed in his basket and frowns. “What do Pop Rocks have to do with professional grade cooking?”

Hinata snatches the packet out of his hands and throws it back in the basket. “You have to get creative,” he says, adding powdered sugar to the pile. Tobio’s arms are starting to ache. How many ingredients do they even need? “Following all the rules doesn’t impress anyone.”

Well, that jab had all the subtlety of a hammer. Tobio glares. “I thought I said we’d be going with my plan,” he says.

“What plan?” Hinata asks. When Tobio stares at him for a moment, mouth working, he grins and shrugs, heading over to the fridge. “See? Exactly.”

Okay, so Tobio never really had a plan. He’s never done well as a pastry chef, and that was when someone else was calling the shots. That doesn’t mean that he wants to be following Hinata’s lead, though. “Cupcakes are childish,” Tobio says. “If I went to a four-star restaurant, the last thing I’d want after my meal is a _cupcake_.” He wrinkles up his nose. “Are you planning on adding sprinkles?”

Hinata hands Tobio a container of eggs. “Not this time,” he says, like he’d actually considered it, and Tobio is dreading this round. 

“This is ridiculous,” Tobio mutters, but the final bell sounds and he still doesn’t have any idea of his own. Pastries? Cake? ...Fondue? It’s a bit late now. Tobio grits his teeth and hoists the basket, stomping after Hinata back to their new, shared station. This is really not how this was supposed to work out. He looks at the station behind them, at Tanaka and Nishinoya doing some weird complicated bro handshake, and he scowls. Out of everyone still in this competition, he gets stuck with Hinata. “Fine. But we’re doing these my way.”

“Do you even know how to make cupcakes without a box mix?” Hinata asks. Iwaizumi is calling everyone to attention, swatting at Oikawa’s head as he twists to preen for the camera. 

“I am a classically trained french chef,” Tobio says, and he draws himself up, staring down his nose at Hinata. “I have been cooking professionally since I was sixteen. You’re a line cook from a diner.” He infuses it with as much disdain as he can possibly manage, just to watch Hinata turn red with anger. Hinata needs that reminder that he’s just not as skilled as any of the rest of them, but especially not Tobio. “If you can do it, I doubt it’ll be that hard.” He turns away, faces the front and the bank of cameras, and hopes that Hinata will be too mad to be able tell that he’s bluffing.

It’s working. “I didn’t need any fancy training to get this far,” Hinata shouts, and Tobio lets himself take a tiny bit of pleasure in the way that everyone turns to stare at Hinata in disapproval. Iwaizumi looks like he’s ready to throttle someone, and even Asahi seems to be getting tired of this. “Sorry,” Hinata mutters, hunching his shoulders and ducking his head.

“Give me five minutes,” Iwaizumi says, glaring down everyone in the room. “Five minutes before all hell breaks loose.”

“Sir, yessir,” Oikawa drawls. He yelps when Iwaizumi cuffs the back of his head, pouting resentfully as he fixes his hair. “So mean.”

Iwaizumi pays him no attention at all. “Five minutes,” he says one more time, “then you can yell all you want.” 

Tobio pushes out his chin and says nothing, but he can tell that Hinata’s still seething. It’s more than a little bit satisfying. He shouldn’t be the only one aggravated by these circumstances. 

He lays his hands flat down against the countertop while Oikawa counts down to the start of the round. One hour. He has one hour to take control of this round and make sure he comes out on top. Tobio takes a deep breath and nods to himself. Cupcakes. They can’t be that difficult.

 

 

 

“What…are you doing?” Hinata gapes at him, one hand still loosely holding the knife.

The truth is that Tobio isn’t really sure. “I’m making the batter,” he lies, valiantly trying to pretend like he’s not elbow-deep in sticky, too-runny vanilla glop. He’s not really certain how the hand mixer got so out of his control, but he’s not about to admit his weakness to Hinata. “What does it look like?”

Hinata scrunches up his nose. “A mess,” he says. He drops his knife and gestures for Tobio to let him take over. Tobio bristles and drags the bowl closer to his chest. “I can’t believe someone who cooks as well as you do is this helpless with a little bit of baking.” Tobio is not _helpless_. Just a bit...rusty. He drops the mixer into the batter with a splash, and Hinata flinches as it splatters across his face. “Hey!”

“I think the flour is different from what I’m used to working with,” Tobio says. When he’d started blending it, it’d been too dry, so he’d added a bit of water, because cupcakes are supposed to be moist. It seems that he’s over-compensated. He looks down at the mess in the bowl and tries not to feel the pressure of the ticking clock.

“Yeah, sure,” Hinata mutters. He stands up on his tiptoes to peer into Tobio’s bowl, using a spoon to taste the batter. “Ugh, that’s kinda gross. And...hey! I thought we were doing chocolate!”

Tobio fishes the mixer out of the batter. He’s already covered in it, anyway. “Vanilla tastes better,” he says stubbornly. “There’s no need to get fancy. All we need for a good dessert is a good, classic taste.”

Hinata blinks at him. “What would you know? You don’t even eat dessert.” He jabs his thumb into his chest. “I’m practically an expert.”

Another splash of vanilla batter goes over the edge of the bowl as Tobio mixes furiously. “I know good food,” he snaps. “Far better than you would. You’d probably deep-fry these if I let you.”

“You can’t deep-fry cupcakes, the batter would fall apart!” Hinata retorts, his voice rising. His hands curl up into fists at his side. 

“And how are we doing over here?” Sugawara asks, camera at his shoulder. He fights off a smile when he sees the mess Tobio’s made of his new red apron. “Wow, looks like someone had a bit of an accident with the mixer.”

Hinata laughs. “Looks like top chef Kageyama still doesn’t know to make one of the easiest desserts around.” He grabs at the bowl again, and Tobio clings to it for a moment before he catches sight of the incredulous laughter on Sugawara’s face and he lets it go. Maybe he never learned how to make cupcakes because he was too busy perfecting braised quail. Idiot. “Or the right flavour. This is supposed to be chocolate!”

“We never agreed to that,” Tobio sniffs, wiping his sticky hands down his ruined apron. “Besides, vanilla is classic. It’s always a winner.”

“Classic is sooooo boring, though,” Hinata groans. 

Before Tobio can stop him, Hinata tips the bowl over the garbage and pours out the batter. “What do you think you’re doing?” Tobio says, slapping a sticky palm against the counter. “That batter was fine! We don’t have time to start playing your silly games.”

“It seems that tensions are high with this group,” Sugawara interrupts, and Tobio deflates, letting his anger subside to a simmering boil. “Maybe you’re taking that heat of the kitchen thing a little too seriously, hmm?”

“Sorry,” Hinata says, offering up a smile to Sugawara. What is it about that guy that Hinata likes so much, anyway? “I guess I just want to do my best with this round. Dessert is my favourite, after all!” He tosses the mixing bowl onto the dish rack and grabs a new one, a clean one. “I want to do it right.”

Tobio presses his lips into a thin line. It seems that Hinata has forgotten that there’s more than one person on a team. “So do I,” Tobio says, voice sharp. He can’t believe he made such a mess of himself, and for nothing at all. How embarrassing.

Sugawara takes a long look from Tobio to Hinata and then back again. “Well,” he says finally, “I guess I will leave you to it.” He discreetly waves the cameraman on to the next station. “Good luck!”

They’re definitely going to need it, especially now that they’ve wasted their first ten minutes and they have no batter to show for it. Tobio watches Sugawara walk off to listen to Tanaka and Nishinoya describe their meal excitedly at top volume and glowers. _They_ got the best possible team-up. He huffs. He’s about to turn back to the counter when he feels the press of hands against the small of his back, steering him away. “Hey!”

He drags his heels but Hinata keeps pushing until Tobio is planted in front of the cutting board. “You can handle these, can’t you?” Hinata asks, gesturing down at the strawberries that will end up in the icing and on top, as a garnish. “It’s sort of like cooking.”

“You don’t need to be so smug,” Tobio says, shoving Hinata away from him. Hinata shrugs and rolls his eyes, reaching for the clean mixing bowl to start making the batter himself. “This is almost insulting,” Tobio mutters. As his fingers close around the handle of the knife, he swings his hand up and points it straight at Hinata. “You’d better not be doing this just so you can make chocolate instead.”

“That’s only part of it,” Hinata says. Tobio grips the cutting knife and seethes.

Vanilla is a classic flavour, very simple, tasty, and it needs no frills to showcase it. The art of good cooking is allowing the flavours to speak for themselves. None of this nonsense Hinata seems so good at, throwing everything he possibly can at the dish and hoping it matches. He’s had no training and he definitely has no sense and it all shows. “No. You chose the dish, so I’m choosing the flavour. Vanilla.”

Hinata raises his hands, fingers crooking into claws. “Ugh!” he exclaims. “You’re so frustrating!”

“I’m not the only one,” Tobio replies, as snidely as possible. He’s distinctly out of his depth here and he hates it. His entire winning streak depends on a bunch of silly cupcakes. He sneaks a look over his shoulder at Sawamura and Michimiya’s station, and he tries not to be too envious of the easy way they work together, laughing and in sync. When he glances back at Hinata, he’s practically eating a spoonful of chocolate in the name of ‘taste-testing’. What a mess.

“It’s a little plain,” Hinata says, and it takes Tobio a second to realize what he’s talking about. Right, the batter. “How about a compromise?”

Tobio turns his attention from where he’s been cutting the strawberries into tiny perfect slices. “I think I’ve done enough compromising for this round.”

Hinata ignores him. “You’ve heard of marbling, right?” He’s starting to get this light in his eyes, the same one Tobio’s seen in lightning rounds, when he’s dashing from one side of the station to the other, cooking like his life depends on it. He loves this stuff. “What if we, like, make another batch of vanilla, and then marble the two together! It’ll give it a whole new level of depth.” He looks slyly over at Tobio. “And you’ll get to use your precious vanilla.”

He sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. “It sounds gimmicky,” Tobio says. 

“It’s not gimmicky!” Hinata shouts. Tobio plants one hand on his hip, chin jutted out imperiously. “What is the point of competing if you’re only going to play it safe!” Though he’d been ready to bite back with a reply, Tobio’s mouth snaps shut at that. Has he been playing it safe? “Jeez, live a little.”

Tobio fumbles for a reply for a second. “I don’t like what you’re implying,” he says stiffly.

Hinata frowns. “There’s nothing wrong with vanilla,” he says, and he accompanies his words with a dramatic swoop of his hands. “It’s just, this is a competition! We should be taking risks, because who knows how long we’ll even be here?”

“Oh.” Tobio had had no idea how earnest Hinata is about this competition. He’d seen the delight he took in his cooking and had kind of assumed that, well, he’d done this on a whim. Because it was something fun to do. He didn’t know he could be serious like this. “Well, whatever,” he says.

Hinata takes a step back, his hands falling to his side. “So, this is our plan, right?” he asks tentatively. He looks a little surprised that Tobio hadn’t fought him on this more. “No wasted time.”

Tobio’s hackles raise at that. “I didn’t mess up the batter on purpose,” he begins, but Hinata’s already lost interest in the conversation, gesturing at him to pay attention to the strawberries he’s cutting up. Hinata turns his own focus to mixing a new bowl of vanilla batter up for the cupcakes. Tobio has to admit, he’s very good at this. Tobio’s worked in a lot of kitchens, and he’s seen all types of chefs, but Hinata is something else. There’s no precision to what he does, but he’s not fumbling to figure things out. He might be stirring the batter quickly enough to slop a little over the edge, but when Tobio reaches out a finger to taste it, it’s absolutely perfect. Tobio thinks of his own runny mess of an attempt and he flushes. Embarrassing.

He’s so busy thinking of his own mistake that his attention wanders and his knifework gets sloppy. He only notices when he feels the bite of the blade through his fingertip and he yelps, instantly snatching it away and sticking it in his mouth. “What happened?” Hinata says, dropping his spoon and reaching for Tobio. “Are you okay?”

Under further examination, the cut is deep enough to be bleeding pretty good, but it’s nothing serious. “I’m fine,” Tobio grunts, pushing Hinata’s hands away. “The clock is ticking. Go look after the cupcakes.”

Hinata hesitates, eyes fixed on the drop of blood that seeps out and runs down Tobio’s knuckle, pooling in the hollow between his fingers. “It looks pretty bad…”

“Go!” Tobio snaps, and Hinata’s mouth twists, but he obeys, grabbing his wooden spoon again. He’s watching Tobio carefully from the corner of his eye, though. 

Iwaizumi and the medic approach with the first aid kit, but Tobio waves off the help, refusing to let anyone else bandage up the cut on his finger. He’s not a child—he can handle a minor wound. Once it’s wrapped up as well as he can manage with one hand, he tugs on a pair of rubber gloves and gives Iwaizumi a nod. “I’m fine,” he says again. “Let me finish the round.”

Maybe it’s the edge of pleading to his voice that makes Iwaizumi sigh and wave him back towards his station. “Out of the two of you,” he says, “I wouldn’t have bet on you to be the one to injure himself first.”

Tobio turns even more red. Cutting yourself is such a rookie mistake. “Trust me, it won’t happen again,” he mutters. He’ll make sure of it. 

He stares down at his hands, flexing his fingers and feeling the pull of the rubber and the ache of the wound. It’ll do, for now at least. He can’t afford to let Hinata do everything this round. It’d reflect badly on him and who knows how their dish would even turn out. “Hinata,” he calls, and Hinata freezes like he’s been caught doing something wrong, batter dripping off his spoon. “Aren’t you done with that mixing yet?”

“Hey,” Hinata yelps, and when he swings the wooden spoon out to point at Tobio, vanilla batter goes everywhere. “I’ve been holding up my end while you’re over there bleeding on yourself like an idiot!”

Tobio makes a strangled little noise in the back of his throat, all outrage and embarrassment. “Less talking, more cooking,” he orders, and he returns to the strawberries. These, at least, he can do. 

“Baking,” Hinata corrects, and Tobio has to actively suppress the urge to flick a strawberry top at his smug little face.

 

 

“Five minutes,” Sugawara calls, and Tobio grumbles under his breath, carefully setting the first cupcake on the plate. “Time to get those desserts on their plates, chefs.” Hinata had iced them, which had turned out to be an enormous mistake, because half of the cupcakes are now a sticky mess. He hunches down over the dish, painstakingly tidying up the icing with the flat of a butter knife. If he had his choice, he’d scrap these and start all over, but the clock is ticking, and they need to be done.

“You’re so fussy,” Hinata complains, his shoulders drooping as he rolls his eyes. “Who cares what it looks like, as long as it tastes good?”

Tobio rounds on him so fiercely that Hinata stumbles back a few steps. “Presentation is vital,” he hisses, and Hinata backs away even further. “I will not let you show a sloppy plate to the judges.”

“Okay, okay,” Hinata says, and he gestures forward. “You do your magic, or whatever.”

Tobio spends the final minutes of the round trying to make everything look presentable. It’s...not easy. He’s still not even certain that cupcakes were the right choice for this, but maybe with the right garnish, it can still look like something a proper restaurant would serve after a meal, not something a kindergartener would bring to share with the class.

They’d tested one of the extras, and the cupcakes themselves taste good, at least to Tobio. They hadn’t turned out as nicely shaped as he’d wanted—some are a little lopsided, and none of them look the way he wanted them to. He’s used icing to even them out, but he’s afraid that the judges will see right through that. This is not his best round. His finger hurts and he feels very, very nervous.

They’re the third team to be judged, and the waiting only makes him feel worse. His stomach churns unpleasantly as Sawamura and Michimiya show off their beautiful little crème brûlées. Michimiya isn’t the strongest chef in the kitchen, but with Sawamura’s expertise, they’ve managed to pull off a dish that looks straight out of a cooking magazine. They’re absolutely sunk.

Next to him, Hinata is practically squirming with anticipation, shifting from foot to foot and squeezing his hands into fists at his side. “Stop it,” Tobio mutters, elbowing Hinata sharply in the side. “You’ll make us look bad.”

“Why did you have to put so many strawberries on there? It looks stupid.” 

They’re on camera, so Tobio settles for stomping on Hinata’s foot. “You can’t really expect me to serve up a cupcake to the judges like they’re here for snack-time.” Hinata pouts, shifting away. “If you paid any attention at all to presentation, maybe your dishes wouldn’t look like they were served by a child.”

“What are you saying?” Hinata says, his voice a hair too loud, and behind the camera, Iwaizumi levels his deadliest glare at him. Clapping his hands over his mouth, Hinata shrinks back. 

When Iwaizumi finally looks away to stop Oikawa from practically fellating his spoon while he moans about how good the dish is, Hinata spins towards Tobio again. “I don’t need garnish to win rounds.”

Their dish is up next, which is the only reason that Tobio decides not to rip Hinata’s head off. He supposes the judges would dock him points on a team round if he murdered his partner. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, though. He glares at Hinata out of the corner of his eye instead and thinks very, very murderous thoughts. If he’s lucky, Hinata will just drop dead, and he’ll never have to deal with him again.

He’s not lucky. Their names are called and they step forward. “We’ve made gourmet marbled vanilla-and-chocolate cupcakes with a delicate strawberry frosting and strawberry garnish,” Tobio recites.

Hinata glances up at him. “Delicate?” he whispers. “ _Gourmet_?” Tobio ignores him. He’s got to do something to make these sound classy.

Chef Kiyoko takes one delicate bite and chews slowly, thoughtfully. Tobio feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. In all the weeks of this show, he has never once felt this nervous. “Perfectly serviceable,” she proclaims, laying down her spoon. “But disappointing. Sloppy and a bit dull.”

Tobio’s entire body flinches like he’s been slapped. Chef Kiyoko never minces words, but this is definitely not good. His nails dig into his palms and he takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. 

Oikawa is worse. “My dear Tobio,” he says, and Tobio’s lip curls, “I expected so much more from you.” He toys with the cupcake in front of him, knocking the strawberry garnish onto the plate and doodling his initials into the icing. “Such a promising young chef, and yet, even with help, you can’t deliver more than a mediocre dish.” Oikawa clicks his tongue and lets his spoon fall against the plate with a rattle. “What a letdown.”

Asahi is last. He’s always been the easiest on the contestants, the judge most likely to strive to find something nice to say, to soften the blow. Asahi will go easy on them, Tobio prays. He feels that nervous itch to move again as Asahi scoops out a bite of the cupcake with a hefty taste of icing and garnish on it. Tobio wants to grab him by the collar and shake him, demand his judgement _now_. This waiting is intolerable.

“When we matched the two of you up, we were hoping that maybe you would, despite your differences, bring out the best in each other.” Tobio frowns for a minute. He’s not sure where Asahi is going with this, but it certainly doesn’t seem good, what with the hangdog, disappointed-dad look that Asahi is wearing. “This challenge seems to have done the opposite.” Next to Tobio, Hinata whines, his shoulders drooping. “You both have such potential, and this dish does nothing to show off either of your abilities. It’s not bad, but it’s not great, either. I wanted to see more from the two of you, and I was let down.”

“Sorry, chef,” Hinata mumbles, and Tobio echoes it, staring at his feet. He’s got a heavy feeling in his gut. They should have done better. He clenches his hands so tightly his knuckles ache. “Next time, we’ll do better.”

“Hmm,” Oikawa says, leaning in. “Then you’d better hope there will _be_ a next time.”

The judges turn to the last pair, and Tobio is grateful to step away from the cameras and the attention. Even when he worked under Oikawa, he’d never felt as thoroughly humiliated and upset with himself as he does right now. He should’ve done better. He fixes his eyes on the wall somewhere in the vicinity of Asahi’s elbow and goes over all of the things he could’ve done to make it better. Should have insisted that he be the one to fill up the tray for baking, should have put less sugar in the icing, should’ve made something else altogether. He grits his teeth.

Hinata nudges him in the ribs. “Hey,” he whispers. “They were pretty hard on us, huh?”

“Shut up,” Tobio hisses back. The cupcakes were Hinata’s idea, after all. He doesn’t really feel up to talking to him right now, especially when they’re supposed to be quiet while the judges speak. Iwaizumi is eyeing them like he’s deciding which method he’ll use to dispose of their bodies. 

“Whatever,” Hinata grumbles, tucking his chin into his chest and shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Tobio pointedly looks away. He doesn’t want to have to stand here and listen to Oikawa ramble rhapsodically about Tanaka’s daring or the way that Nishinoya had salvaged their half-frozen ice cream to make a fantastic dish. He wants this whole round to be over already. He knows they’d need a miracle not to be in the bottom dishes, and waiting around for it to be announced is agonizing.

Finally, they’re released while the judges ‘deliberate,’ and Tobio stomps away from the station to seethe on his own. He’d pulled off the rubber gloves when the round had ended, but the cut on his finger has bled through his hasty bandage job. He stares down at the slow seep of blood and frowns. Sloppy. 

“It’s still bleeding?” Tobio jerks when Hinata pops up at his elbow. “That’s probably not good, you know.”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Tobio says, and he tucks his finger in towards his palm. He just wants to pretend that he hadn’t made a fool of himself with this.

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Well, at least try to bandage it up,” he says. He grabs the first aid kit that the medic had brought to them earlier and digs up a handful of band-aids. “Sit down,” he says. 

“What are you doing?” Tobio demands, although it’s pretty obvious. Hinata peels open the bandages, tongue between his teeth, and holds it out. “I cut my finger, I didn’t become incompetent. I can do it myself.”

“Ugh,” Hinata groans. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t do that with one hand.” He holds the band-aid out under Tobio’s nose until he finally, reluctantly, gives out his injured finger. 

Hinata’s not really that much better than Tobio would’ve been with on his own, but he makes up for it by using three different bandages and patting Tobio’s hand when he’s done. Tobio wouldn’t admit it, but he does feel just a little bit better. Even if he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to do anything with that finger, since he can’t bend it at all with the overzealous wrap job. 

“You’re really hard to work with,” Hinata says abruptly, and Tobio squawks indignantly. _He’s_ the one that’s hard to work with? “No, just, like, listen.” Hinata plants his feet in the ground and his hands on his hips. “I know you think it’s my fault that we sucked, but you are no walk in the park, you know!”

“So it’s my fault?” Tobio scoffs, drawing himself up in scornful irritation. “That your silly cupcakes were uninspired and sloppy?”

Hinata’s voice is rising. “No, it’s _our_ fault!” he shouts, punctuating it with a stomp of his foot. Tobio pauses, taken aback. He wasn’t expecting that. “We’re a team. Or, we were supposed to be. We failed.” 

Tobio can’t argue with that. They certainly hadn’t been much of a partnership, and their dish had come out a mediocre mess. “I wish I had been paired with someone else,” Tobio says.

“Or maybe you should’ve tried a little harder to work with me, instead of, like—” Hinata throws his hands in the air, “—in spite of me.” He’s not that big at all, but when he’s glaring Tobio down, he doesn’t feel so small. “I’m a really good cook! I know my desserts! Those cupcakes could’ve been awesome, if you hadn’t been so busy getting mad you had to work with someone else.”

“I’m—I didn’t—” Tobio’s words stutter to a halt and he glares. “That’s not what it was.” He tries to curl his hands into fists, but that one stupid bandaged finger won’t bend. “You’re the one who insisted on cupcakes, you’re the one who wanted to do it your way.”

“That’s because I know what I’m doing!” Hinata says. 

“Sure,” Tobio sneers. “I’m sorry I let you make a mess of our dish.”

“I’m sorry I let you make our cupcakes boring,” Hinata retaliates. 

Tobio sniffs, twisting away, and he rubs his thumb against the line of band-aids on his finger. In the show, they’ve been billing him as a ‘private chef’, but the truth is that he hasn’t been able to find a job that sticks in the months since he left Oikawa’s kitchen. ‘Interpersonal issues’ is the way that the last chef had phrased it, after his sous chef had stormed out, refusing to work with him. He’s beginning to think that maybe they’re right. He can’t run a kitchen by himself, no matter how much he tries.

“I’m also sorry you hurt yourself,” Hinata says after a moment. He peers at Tobio. “Are you gonna be okay for the next round?” He looks earnest enough, which doesn’t make any sense to Tobio. They’re competitors. They’ll most likely both be in the bottom four with a dessert like theirs. Hinata should be glad that Tobio has a handicap.

“I’ll be okay,” Tobio says gruffly. Hinata nods and offers a tight little smile. 

The silence stretches out between them, only made more obvious by the buzz of nervous conversation between the other contestants. Hinata scuffs his toe against the polished floor. “Well,” he says. “Guess I’ll… go…”

He heads off in Sawamura’s direction, and Tobio feels the words bubble up from his gut. “I’m sorry,” he says through gritted teeth. Hinata stalls and pivots, turning around to blink at him. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, quieter. 

Hinata lights up with a smile, a real one this time. It’s like staring down the sun. Tobio is a little dazed. “Apology accepted,” Hinata says magnanimously. Tobio narrows his eyes and Hinata almost _skips_ away. What a ridiculous kid.

 

 

Neither of them are sent home in the elimination round - Hinata has immunity and Tobio, of course, handles it with ease. That’s only a consolation prize, though. He’s still upset with his performance in the last round. 

Throughout the competition, he’s never once been in the bottom, and he’s never been so disappointed with himself. He signed up for this competition because he wanted the challenge. He was already certain he was a good chef, but there was something so satisfying about being able to prove it in such a concrete way. Except here he is, proving just the opposite. 

Maybe Hinata had picked the wrong dish, but Tobio had pretty much done everything in his power to sabotage it. He’d dragged his heels and he’d argued every decision like he had any idea how to make any kind of dessert. He kind of sucks at being a team player. 

They have a day before they start filming for the next episode, and Tobio spends it alone. Most of the real aggression is saved for on camera, and a lot of the contestants like to hang out together, but Tobio has never really figured out how to initiate any of that. He mostly gets to sit by himself in the common room and pick at his bandages, thinking about what he’s messed up. Hinata’s band-aids have stuck, and whether that’s because he used a fistful or because he was careful, Tobio can’t decide. It’s better than what he’d managed, at least.

He’s staring listlessly at his lunch when Sugawara slides into the seat in front of him. “Rough round, hmm?” he says. “How’s your hand looking?” A part of Tobio wants to bristle at the way that Sugawara always makes sure to check in on him, like a wayward child, but he’s always so warm and solicitous that Tobio just can’t help but like him.

Tobio sighs. “Doesn’t hurt anymore,” he admits. He pushes his bowl aside and slumps over the table, chin buried in his arms. He just wants to get back to cooking. It’s tedious waiting around, watching Hinata hobnob with the other chefs.

“Good,” Sugawara says with a smile. “I’m glad we don’t need to amputate.” Tobio lifts his face just enough to shoot him a dark look. “You did well in the elimination round, though.”

Tobio shrugs. “I’m a good chef,” he says simply. It’s not arrogance, it’s the truth. He’s definitely not the worst chef in this competition. “Are you surprised?”

“Of course not,” Sugawara says, waving a hand. “You’ve always been among the top chefs.” He props his face up in one hand. “I’ve been very impressed with your performance.”

Sugawara’s compliments aren't rare, but neither are they insincere. Tobio flushes. "Thanks," he mutters. He’s not sure that he really deserves it, after that mess of a pair round, but it still feels nice. 

“You know,” Sugawara says, “there’s a rumour going around that the next immunity round will be pairs again.” Tobio straightens up abruptly. “This time, it seems that you’ll be able to pick your own partner.”

If this is true, then Sugawara is giving him the kind of ammunition he needs to plan for the next challenge. Tobio narrows his eyes. “Isn’t this cheating?” he asks slowly.

Sugawara shrugs a shoulder, gesturing towards the rest of the contestants with a flick of his head. “It’s already made the rounds through everyone else,” he says easily. “I’m just...evening the playing field right now.”

Ah. So Tobio was the only one left out of the loop. He glances over at them again, at Tanaka throwing back his head and roaring with laughter with Nishinoya and Hinata. “Oh,” he says, and he feels a little small.

“Think about it,” Sugawara says, and when he stands, he ruffles Tobio’s hair. “I know you don’t want to make the same mistake twice.” He winks.

Another pair round. Tobio’s stomach shifts uneasily. He’s got a lot to think about before tomorrow, that’s for sure.

 

 

Sugawara was right and as they begin filming, they draw straws to choose who gets to pick first. By some miracle, Tobio gets the long straw. He stares blankly down at it clutched in his hand. “Well, dear Tobio,” Oikawa says, arms crossed neatly over his middle, “it seems that you will get to right the wrong of the last round and pick your ideal partner.” He strides over to the rest of the contestants and gestures to them with a broad sweep of his arm. “Choose wisely.”

There are a lot of good chefs in this competition. Sawamura has never failed to produce a solid dish, and Nishinoya can salvage any mistake he makes, but both of them are frankly a little intimidating. Tobio doesn’t cook well when he’s nervous. He even takes a second to consider Tsukishima—tall, competent, bored—before he dismisses the urge. After Tobio had tried to take charge in a team round a few episodes back, Tsukishima had taken to saluting him and calling him ‘Captain’ in as insulting a tone as possible. No matter what ability Tsukishima has in the kitchen, he’s a no.

In the end, there’s really only one choice. Tobio folds his straw over in his fingers. “Hinata,” he says clearly. It’s not an answer anyone was expecting, least of all Hinata, who makes a weird noise and drops his straw. “I want to work with Hinata.” Behind the bank of cameras, Iwaizumi actually looks impressed. Good television, Tobio supposes. 

Slowly, Hinata raises a finger and points at himself, wide-eyed and utterly confused. “Wait, you _want_ to work with me?” he squeaks. 

For once in his life, Oikawa looks at a loss. Tobio can’t help but feel a tiny sense of satisfaction at that. “After that last round, you’re still choosing to work with Hinata again?” Oikawa says. “That is a choice I didn’t see coming.”

Tobio’s eyes skate away from Hinata and fix somewhere on a point over his shoulder. “Hinata has a lot of really good ideas,” he says gruffly, and he’s not going to pretend that he doesn’t notice the way that that affects Hinata, makes him open up and grin. “I think that I can make them work this time.” Just off camera, Sugawara flashes him a quick thumbs up.

“I’m game,” Hinata says, with enough enthusiasm to erase the last of Tobio’s nerves. “As long as you don’t want to make something super boring again.”

“Hey,” Tobio frowns. “Classic isn’t boring.”

“It’s pretty boring,” Hinata tells him, and Tobio finds himself smiling, just a little.

Hinata comes to stand by Tobio and the rest of the filming continues. “It’s not boring,” he mutters at Hinata, watching him fiddle with the ties of his new pair apron. This one is orange. “You just have no taste.”

Hinata turns to look at him for a long moment, then the corners of his mouth turn up and he shrugs. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “Whatever you say.”

Tobio folds his arms over his chest and waits for the rest of the pairs to be sorted out so that they can begin. This time, things are going to be different. When he looks down at Hinata again, he nods, and Tobio nods back. Yeah, this time, they’ll pull it off. 

 

 

“Fifteen seconds!” Sugawara announces, and Tobio snatches the last clean cloth off the rack to polish off the stray drops of sauce on each plate. These have to be _perfect_. He won’t accept anything less. “Ten… nine… eight…” 

As Tobio stands back to survey their dishes, Hinata swoops in to straighten the garnish on one of them. Tobio stares at him. “Presentation is everything,” Hinata says in a snotty voice. Tobio’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be him. He swats at Hinata with the cloth and is rewarded with a squawk and a smear of sauce across the bridge of Hinata’s nose. Totally deserved.

“Time! Please step away from your dishes.” 

Even as Tobio’s taking his step back, watching the staff ready the plates for filming of the testing round, he’s staring at them, calculating in his head. Is that dish too light on sauce? Does that one look too undercooked? Crooked on the dish? “Stop making that stupid face,” Hinata says quietly. “We can’t fix anything now.”

“My face isn’t stupid,” Tobio says automatically. Hinata grins.

It had been a secret ingredient round, and this time, each pair had been assigned a certain type of meat. Tobio and Hinata had gotten duck’s breast, which was excellent, because Tobio loves cooking game birds. There’s a certain level of skill to it—a hair too long, and the meat can become dry and tasteless. It’s a challenge. He loves challenges.

This round had been a challenge, that was for certain. It wasn’t like the last one, though. When Hinata had splashed sauce everywhere and nearly ruined the dish, Tobio had just gritted his teeth and cleaned it up while Hinata worked on fixing it. When Hinata had bumped Tobio’s arm when he was adding spices, he’d fought down the urge to shout and instead let Hinata salvage it, giving their sauce a kind of kick. It’s a risk, but maybe that’s just what they need.

They’re first on the block, and it’s a relief that they don’t have to sit around and wait their turn. When Oikawa calls them up, Hinata steps forward at the same time that Tobio does, and the two of them jostle up against each other behind the plates. “It looks lovely,” Asahi assures them, lifting up his fork, and Tobio takes a deep breath.

Asahi, of course, is the pushover. “Delicious,” he declares, although he’s only had one bite. It’s still a nice little boost, though. He digs out another forkful. “And I _love_ what you did with the sauce,” he says. “It’s got a kind of unexpected kick to it.”

Tobio hesitates for a moment. “That was Hinata’s idea,” he admits, nodding towards his partner. “I didn’t think the spice would work, but, well, he talked me into it.” Hinata beams.

“Very effective,” Chef Kiyoko proclaims. “Moist, elegant, and surprising. I’m very impressed.”

Oikawa takes his time, making a show of mopping up the sauce and chewing, savouring each bite. “It seems,” he says finally, leaning over the table towards Tobio, “that we have discovered the one human being capable of working with Tobio.” He taps a fingertip against the table. “This is very, very good. One of the best dishes I’ve seen out of either of you throughout the competition.”

High praise from Oikawa Tooru. Tobio struggles to find his voice. “Thank you,” he says, quickly echoed by Hinata.

“You see, Tobio?” Oikawa folds his hands in front of him benevolently, which Tobio knows from long experience is a sign that Oikawa is ready to impart his wisdom upon them all. “When you work with others, do you understand how much more depth your cooking will have?”

He’s right, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still incredibly obnoxious. “Yes, chef,” Tobio says crisply, and next to him, Hinata snickers.

They step back to allow the next dish to be judged, and this time, Tobio doesn’t mind the wait. Sawamura and Nishinoya have put together a great dish, but it doesn’t have anything on the one that Tobio made with Hinata. Tobio nudges Hinata.

“Yeah,” Hinata whispers, and he puffs out his chest and pushes out his chin. “Yeah, we _totally_ nailed it.” He holds one hand out, fingers curled into a fist.

Tobio spent his childhood in kitchens, learning how to slice capers wafer-thin, and that’s the excuse he’ll give for why it takes so long for him to realize what Hinata wants. Hesitantly, Tobio knocks his knuckles into Hinata’s. “We’ve definitely got immunity,” he says.

“Hell yeah, we do!” Hinata exclaims. At Sugawara’s shoulder, Iwaizumi clears his throat pointedly, staring Hinata down until he shrinks. “Whoops,” he says, a lot quieter.

Even Iwaizumi’s sternest glare can’t dampen Tobio’s mood right now. He has always loved cooking, loved the rush he gets from making something new, but this is a different kind of high. There’s something exciting about being challenged by another person, about learning to fit his style into theirs, and he thinks that maybe he could get used to this kind of thing.

When the judging is done, there’s only a brief deliberation before they declare Hinata and Tobio’s dish the winner, and Tobio pumps his fist in the air while Hinata whoops. He catches Tobio’s eye and he grins, that bright, unabashed kind of grin that pulls a smile out of Tobio in return. Yeah, this is a kind of compromise that Tobio can get behind.

 

 

In the end, neither of them make it to the final two. Hinata is eliminated from the top five after he finally bites off more than he can chew and misses plating one of his dishes for the judges. It surprises Tobio, how disappointed he is. The rest of the contestants are very talented, of course, but Tobio is going to miss going up against Hinata every week. 

Tobio makes it to the top three. In the end, it’s an uninspired appetizer that gets him the boot, and he has to admit that he deserves it. Sawamura and Nishinoya have really outdone themselves, and Tobio has dropped the ball when he can least afford it. He only has himself to blame for it. He’s let himself down.

They get to come back for the final episode, though. Part of the challenge for Sawamura and Nishinoya is making enough food for all twelve former contestants, and that’s how Tobio finds himself at a little table with a camera pointed in his face, elbow to elbow with Hinata. Across the table, Tanaka leans back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. “My money’s on Nishinoya,” he declares, and he slaps a hand down against the table. “Drinks on me if Noya wins.”

Tobio thinks he’s probably a little biased, considering that he’s fairly certain that Tanaka and Nishinoya spent every off-night they had drinking beer and talking about how dreamy Chef Kiyoko is. Even now, Tanaka is only watching the top two cook with one eye, more focused on the judges table and the delicate way that Kiyoko sips her water. It’s a little ridiculous. 

If Tobio were to actually bet, he’d pick Sawamura. He might not have the most flare, but he’s solid and experienced, and Tobio has always been impressed with the dishes he’s produced. “Then I certainly hope you’re right,” Tobio says, glancing over at Hinata with a smirk.

They’ve got forty-five minutes of waiting while their appetizers are produced, and conversation turns toward what everyone’s doing after the show. “I’m going to get my own food truck,” Tanaka shares, and he spreads his arms wide. “I’m going to revolutionize the street food industry, just you wait.”

Tsukishima clicks his tongue and waves a hand dismissively. “You’re really shooting for the stars there,” he says dryly.

As the two of them start to bicker, Hinata nudges Tobio in the ribs and leans in. “Hey,” he says, “you don’t have a job, right?” 

Tobio narrows his eyes. “No,” he admits, bristling a little. “Why?”

“You could totally come work with me!” he exclaims. “How cool would that be?” He’s practically wiggling in his seat at the idea. “Together, you and I are unbeatable.”

Tobio resists the urge to point out that they’re literally sitting in a competition that proves that idea completely wrong, because Hinata makes a certain kind of sense. Once they’d figured it out, they made a pretty great team, with Tobio’s precision and Hinata’s wild enthusiasm and creativity. “You want me to come work the counter at a _diner_ with you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not,” Hinata says, and then he lights up with an idea. “We could start our own place! Think about it! You and me, our own restaurant, our own menu. It’d be so fun.”

“Hmm.” Tobio’s sure that Hinata’s idea of the ideal restaurant is a far cry from his own, but working with Hinata… “I guess I’ll have to think about it.” He’d never admit it, but as infuriating as Hinata can be, it’d be nice to share a kitchen with someone who could actually keep up with him. 

The staff are starting to circulate, bringing out the first dishes for them to try, and Hinata straightens. “You’re gonna say yes,” he tells Tobio confidently, before he picks up his fork, and Tobio ducks his head, smiling just a tiny bit, and doesn’t bother to correct him.


End file.
